


Shirt

by 1cupoftea



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Love/Hate, Sex, affair, colleagues to something more, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1cupoftea/pseuds/1cupoftea
Summary: Sequel to 'Coat'."Here. You can keep it. A coat for a shirt."





	Shirt

Their affair starts promptly. The physical attraction is there: the chemistry and loaded conversations, the meaningful glances and deliberate brush of fingers. Angela is beyond the point of caring that they are co-workers and in a professional relationship. And that this is strictly forbidden. It makes her giddy and she chastises herself for feeling like a schoolgirl. But Moira makes her go crazy in both the good and bad sense and it's exhilarating.  
  


  
Moira had been riling her up for weeks before Angela finally kisses her in her lab. It's their first kiss and Jack walks in a hair-breadth after they'd broken apart with something urgent, and they avoid each other for the rest of the day.  
  
  


Later Moira practically tackles Angela onto her bed. She lets out a surprised squeak, taken aback by her intensity and prompting her to look up in surprise. "I-it's nothing. Keep going." She breathes, blushing deeply under her gaze. But Moira only snorts and gives her a kind of predatory smile that makes Angela shiver.  
  
  


They kiss violently again and Angela's lips sear. Moira seems like she's set to devour her, unrestrained, and growling possessively as her hands explore her body. It feels incredible. Angela grips at her hair, the planes of her back, her shoulders. She is quivering with pleasure, but suppresses any sounds that might come out of her.  
  
  


Moira slots her hips roughly against hers and Angela can't stop the whimper that comes out of her, grinding back automatically as Moira chuckles low in her ear. She opens her eyes to her smirk - it's almost triumphant - and Angela scowls.  _Of course she see's this as a game_. She leans up to trace her tongue over her lower lip before sinking her teeth into it, producing a deep moan from Moira.  
  
  
  
  
She eyes her up before tugging at her sweater. "This is a nuisance."

  
  
  
"Then take it off." Angela snaps back almost immediately, to which Moira laughs and complies. She then moves to unbutton her shirt but Angela beats her to it and practically tears it off her shoulders. They drink each other in before Angela brings her head in for a kiss. Moira grabs her thighs and pulls her closer, both moaning at the friction.

  
  
  
  
They eventually find a rhythm. There is so much passion Angela can barely breath. She has never wanted this much before. There were definitely women in her life - both fleeting moments and more intimate commitments. But Moira was something else.

  
  
  
  
Angela is making small sounds as they thrust against each other, sucking her neck while Moira grunts and pants above her and breathes the occasional curse word. She feels pleasure building and thinks that this would probably be enough to get her off; but she wants more. Moira lets out another grunt as Angela flips them over, chest heaving. " _Fuck._ "  
  
  


  
Angela smiles at that, moving to unbutton her belt when Moira grabs her wrist. "You sure about that, darling?"  
  
  
  
  
Angela nods in response. "I want this. I want you." She tosses the belt on the floor after Moira lets her go, moving to shrug off her slacks, stopping at her tight-fitting boxers to kiss at her abdomen. Her skin is surprisingly smooth and easy to mark. She rakes her nails down her body and kisses her way up to her collarbones, circling her breasts in turn.  
  
  


" _Christ_ , didn't know you had it in you." Moira chokes, shivering and then hooks a finger into the waistband of her skirt. "And what about this?"  
  
  
  


They end up completely naked, with Angela getting more desperate as Moira lavishes her breasts with kisses and smoothes her hands over her body. "Moira, _please_." She whines, but Moira is already ahead of her, already moving her hips messily against her own and biting at her ear so that she hisses in pain and pleasure. Both their control begins to unravel as their bodies move against each other. Angela comes quickly, shaking and digging her nails into Moira's shoulders with a cry, who tenses as her orgasm overcomes her a second afterwards. " _Shit_."  
  
  
  


They collapse against each other, covered in sweat. She can feel Moira's body rising and falling with her own as they catch their breath and it fills her with an ache of affection. But it is short lived as she sniffs and rolls off her to reach for a cigarette and lighter. There is fumbling for a moment before the flick of the lighter. Moira lays back down with a sigh, and Angela shuffles to bring the bedsheets higher, suddenly self-conscious.  
  
  
  


There is no affectionate cuddling or pillow talk and Angela has to remind herself of their arrangement. They aren't in a relationship. There is no love between them, only lust, and it's good for the both of them. It's enough. She rests a while longer while Moira smokes, staring at the ceiling and running a hand through her hair, before slipping out of bed to shower.  
  
  
  


Moira is sleeping with her back to her by the time she gets out. Angela resists the urge to touch the small hairs at the back of her neck or trace the bumps of her spine. She can already see love bites blooming and wonders about her own. Her hair is darker, damp with sweat, and the germaphobe in Angela resists the urge to wake her up just to get her to at least shower. But as if she read her mind Moira yawns and sits up. Angela grimaces at the ashes left behind on the bedside table when Moira picks up the cigarette to put back between her lips, puffing a cloud of smoke. She stands and puts on her underwear, before turning and smiling at the sight of Angela towelling her damp hair in her pyjamas.  
  
  
  


"Should've woken me, would've joined you." She mumbles around the cigarette yet it still makes Angela flush. Her voice seems huskier, accent more pronounced, and she wouldn't be lying if she said she found it attractive.  
  
  
  


"Shower if you want. Or don't, it does't matter. Although you're a mess." Angela says, changing the sweat-soaked sheets. Moira opens her mouth with mirth in her eyes but Angela beats her to it. " _Don't_ say what I know you're going to say."  
  
  
  


She wipes any remnant of ashes Moira left behind while she showers and settles under the covers with a medical journal she bookmarked yesterday on her tablet. Angela notes with a sinking feeling that they are like a couple. It makes her stomach churn in confusion and guilt. This is too intimate. Moira is in her _shower_ after they had just slept together instead of just leaving. She has conquered her personal space. They have seen each other in their entirety, they've gone all the way and Angela feels like she has crossed into a threshold that she now could not get out of. On one hand she was apprehensive, but on the other she secretly wanted this - whatever it was. There was a palpable attraction between them, there was no denying that.  
  
  
  


Moira strides out of the shower in a towel, no doubt one she scavenged in her bathroom, moving to the window to flick out her cigarette butt before shoving on her clothes.  
  
  
  


Angela stares at her in disbelief. "You showered with the fucking cigarette."  
  
  


"Don't get all high and mighty with me now."  
  
  


"I'm surprised you haven't set fire to this building yet."

  
  
  
Moira smiles thinly, "Aren't we all." She drawls, plopping herself on the bed. "I'm sleeping here tonight if that's alright with you. Don't hog the bloody covers."  
  
  


_Well, apart from appearing like a functional, loving couple, that's completely fine._  "Whatever. And I don't _hog_ for your information."  
  
  
  


Moira grunts, settling herself properly on the bed, facing away from her at a reasonable distance to Angela's appreciation. She studies her secretly a bit longer, noting some spots of water forming on the back of her shirt from her shower, and frowns. "Wait. You can't sleep in your clothes."  
  
  
  


She can hear the mirth in Moira's reply. "Ha! Would you rather have me naked?"  
  
  
  


Angela rolls her eyes and wordlessly gets out of bed to rummage in her drawers until she finds an old shirt. A voice in her head is telling her to stop, telling her that this is going too far but she can't help it. _This is not a relationship, she knows this. It doesn't mean anything._ She tosses it at Moira unceremoniously. "Here. You can keep it. A coat for a shirt."  
  
  
  


Moira begins unbuttoning her shirt again and Angela averts her gaze while making her way back to bed. "Fair enough, I suppose."  
  
  
  


Angela continues reading, making annotations here and there or bookmarking important parts to come back to. Her face is awash in a blue glow and the room is silent when Moira finally settles under the covers, curled up like a cat as far from her as possible.  
  
  
  


"Ugh," Angela suddenly grimaces and waves her hand in the air, "you reek of tobacco."  
  
  
  


"You weren't complaining before."  
  
  
  


"Shut up."  
  
  


This isn't a relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> if i'm not wrong this is the smuttiest thing i've written so far...
> 
> Please feel free to leave advice/feedback, I really appreciate it


End file.
